One Universe to the Left
by butalearner
Summary: Harry is thoroughly enjoying the peace after such a long and desperate struggle against Voldemort. Of course, the peace goes up in flames when Harry accidentally transports himself to another universe where the Order, including a very different version of Harry Potter, still fights a losing battle against a far more cunning, far more powerful Voldemort.
1. Chapter One: Up in Flames

Summary:

Harry is home at Twelve Grimmauld Place, thoroughly enjoying the peace after such a long and desperate struggle against Voldemort. Of course, the peace goes up in flames when Harry accidentally teleports himself to another universe where the Weasleys are all dead except for Bill, most of the people who died are still alive, and a second Harry Potter is still there, still fighting a losing battle against a far more cunning, far more powerful Voldemort.

Preface:

The title of this story is one that I've had in my head for a long time, with the intention of creating a series of humorous one-shots similar to nonjon's brilliant _Dimension Hopping for Beginners._ Thing is, I haven't written any of those. This story was inspired by _Stunning Shifts_, or more specifically, the fact that I reached the end of a Work-In-Progress right before it got to the good stuff (after teasing it for 70,000 words [shakes fist at mindcandy, pretending I don't do that myself]).

This was supposed to be a bunch of short chapters and a fast-paced story, but I haven't touched it in a good, long while. I'm not finished (I have five and a quarter chapters written), but I'm posting it in the hope that you guys like it and your reviews inspire me to continue.

* * *

**One Universe to the Left**

**Chapter One**

**Up in Flames**

* * *

One hundred and sixty-eight crystals.

One hundred and sixty-eight crystals adorned the ancient, wrought iron chandelier in the dreary foyer at Twelve Grimmauld Place in London. Harry Potter knew this because he'd counted them many times, and he'd gotten one hundred and sixty-eight over half the time. The twenty-three candles - three elegant, long-spoked rings of thirteen, seven, and three - also never dripped wax, no matter how long or hard they burned.

And burn they did. Harry had, he found, a rather deft hand with the Fire-Making Charm. It had a certain elegance that other spells in his repertoire lacked; his bread-and-butter Defense spells smote his enemies like fluorescent sledgehammers; his Transfigurations, mostly roughly-hewn conjurations of wood and stone, served only as physical shields, weapons, or distractions; his shield wards were like granite - while the Killing Curse passed through them, it took tremendous magical energy to bring them down; his Potions...well, he hadn't had the time to perfect those while on the run, had he?

But the Fire-Making Charm...Harry could light a single candle from his position on his back, on the floor, probably fifteen paces away vertically. Sure, the enchantments on the chandelier allowed him to simply tap his wand to a particular panel on the wall to light every candle, but where was the art in that?

He was not bored.

Ron and Hermione were off shagging like bunnies, no doubt, after the three of them struggled so hard to achieve their victory. He didn't begrudge them that, although he found himself jealous of Ron once again. Harry loved Hermione, he recognized now, but he had been so stressed about the Prophecy that he'd long since lost _that_ opportunity. The moment he and Hermione shared the night after Ron, in his Horcrux-addled state, walked out on the two of them...well, things might have turned out a little differently if he had recognized the moment for what it was. And sadly, things probably would have turned out worse...another reason Harry was happy for them.

They seemed to realize how he felt, because the comfortable silences they shared for so long had evaporated. Harry could tell they felt awkward even holding hands in his presence, so he insisted on keeping the awkwardness to a minimum. They would come to chat about recent events, then take their leave. Needless to say, he didn't have them over for tea very often.

Among Harry's other closest friends, Neville and Luna got together, too. That was...a surprise? No, not really, after having taken over the DA while Harry was on the run. Just unexpected, Harry supposed. Regardless, that left Ginny.

_"I knew you wouldn't be happy unless you were hunting Voldemort."_

Those words, spoken in bitterness at the end of last year at Hogwarts, still filled him with incredulity, though the anger had long passed. What happiness had he ever found hunting a man who'd attempted to kill him so many times? How many times had he lamented his fate out loud, let alone within the privacy of his own mind?

No, Harry Potter was most certainly not bored. He started out to prove a point: hunting Dark Wizards was not his path to happiness. He'd rejected twenty-two invitations to join the Aurors, even the most recent one that guaranteed him Senior Auror pay during his fast-tracked training, and never mind about his NEWTs because his real life results would outshine anything he could muster in an examination. But no, Harry would _not_ become an Auror, and he was damn proud of that. He rejected all other invitations for employment or endorsements as well, because he'd only received them as a result of his victory over Voldemort.

How ironic that he so often rejected undeserved accolades and wished he was worthy of them, only to turn around and reject most of the honors he _did_ deserve. The Order of Merlin ceremony very quickly soured him on the life of a public figure. Ron commanded the attention of dozens of wizards and witches, regaling them with stories that were not nearly as glamorous as he told them. Hermione—bookish, bossy Hermione—charmingly deflected encouragement to boast, leaving even the most stodgy, conservative members of the Wizengamot smiling and laughing. Neville worked the room like he'd been doing it all his life...lessons from his Gran, no doubt. While his friends effortlessly navigated the highest reaches of wizarding society, Harry stuttered and shrugged his way through conversations, always sighing in relief when one of his friends picked up the slack.

Maybe it would die down in time. It might have already, given how fickle the public tended to be. In the meantime, Harry laid on his back, staring up at the chandelier, reveling in the peace of the moment. He didn't have anybody to share it with very often, but this wasn't boredom. This was contentment.

The peace of the moment shattered when Kreacher popped into existence next to him. "Master, the red-headed...girl...is here again," he said, clearly avoiding the term "blood-traitor." The wizened House Elf didn't think badly of the Weasleys anymore; he just still struggled to overcome his long habit.

"Thanks, Kreacher, send her in," Harry said with a sigh, not moving from the floor.

A cluck of annoyance sounded from the doorway, but he ignored it. "Harry..."

"Hello, Ginny," he said neutrally, remaining still as she walked into view.

She wore a flowery, spaghetti strap dress that fit very snugly on her lithe form, the soft orange color accentuating her pale skin and the long, straight, ruby red hair that disappeared behind her shoulders. She sighed and moved a clenched fist to her hip, which only enhanced her undeniable beauty. "Are you lying there just to vex me?"

"Once, that might have been true," he answered honestly, earning a small gasp of surprise and indignation. "But now I am merely enjoying the peace and quiet."

"It can't be comfortable," she said.

"You would be surprised." She huffed, but before she could escalate the impending argument, he continued, "I feel light as a feather, Ginny. Without the prophecy, the war, the expectations weighing on me..." Harry trailed off wistfully, closing his eyes in hopes of restoring his contentment. "Besides, the marble stays cool in the summer."

"We have cooling charms, you know."

He smiled. Sarcasm. Not a perfect deflection, only a temporary reprieve. "And yet, the floor of my foyer does not need them."

"Come on, Harry, get up! I'm not going to talk to you while you're laying on the floor!"

Harry chuckled at her predictable temper. "Okay, I'll talk to you later, then."

"Harry, please," she pleaded, switching tactics. "I was young and stupid and...and heartbroken that you had to go. I didn't know what I was saying!"

"I know, Ginny," he said honestly, his mirth fading as she seemed to guess what he had just been thinking, "I know, and I have already forgiven you."

"Then why can't you give me another chance? Give _us_ another chance?"

He'd gone over this in his head many times; by most accounts he _should_ give the relationship another go. Among those he trusted, Ginny was the only one left who was available, and he'd wanted her before. But that changed. _He_ changed. He was not completely sure why or how. He didn't think it even had anything to do with Ginny's parting words that felt like an insult despite not being meant that way. It probably had more to do with the fact that Susan Bones had shagged him senseless after the battle.

He was terribly embarrassed when she told him she didn't actually want anything else from him, though she let him down gently. Katie Bell's friend Leanne did the same thing a few days later. It wasn't a Hufflepuff thing, it turned out; it was merely the beginning of a string of supposedly meaningless sexual encounters that only ended when Daphne Greengrass and Tracey Davis nearly tricked him into signing a contract that made the former his wife and the latter his mistress. Despite Tracey applying her prodigious oratory skill whilst Daphne actually did the talking, reason had broken through the lust-induced haze and gotten him out of there. Not even Hermione's insistence that such a thing would be unenforceable assuaged his concern.

Whatever the reason, his feelings for Ginny had changed. Still, the hurt in her voice tore at his heart. Harry would die to protect her, and the fact that he caused her this pain hurt him just as much. Suddenly not finding his rudeness amusing any longer, Harry kicked his legs out and spun to a sitting position, though he kept his eyes on the floor to fight the dizziness of sitting up too fast. After a few moments, he raised his eyes to find her on the verge of tears. He forced himself to hold her gaze. "I'm sorry Ginny, I really am. I just can't help how I feel. It wouldn't be fair to either of us if we tried and my heart wasn't in it."

She looked away, letting a tear streak down her cheek. "Is your heart in anything these days?"

His eyes fell. "I don't know," he said eventually, not knowing how to explain himself any better than he'd already tried. The accusation stung all the more painfully because the real answer was probably no, but he didn't want to admit it. "Hermione says I'm working through all the emotions I've bottled up over the years, and I think that's true. I still don't like to think about Sirius and all the others who...died..." His voice faltered at that, and he took a moment to compose himself. "But I feel better every day."

Ginny sniffled and wiped her face. "It...it seems like it's easier for you to say his name."

Harry laid back down, grateful that she changed the subject. "It is," he said, "a bit." Ginny only continued sniffling, so Harry lifted his wand and sent a thin stream of fire arcing around the chandelier, lighting only one enchanted candle before cutting it off. He watched it burn in silence for several moments, peripherally noting Ginny laying down gingerly next to him. A few strands of her hair tickled his scalp, though neither of them broke the silence.

Taking that as an invitation to continue, another arc of flame circled the chandelier, lighting up one candle at a time as it swept across the thirteen candes of the uppermost ring. "How can you even see the wicks from here?" She asked after watching for several seconds.

"I've had enough practice that I just know where they are," he said. He absently flicked his wand to the wall panel, and the candles extinguished themselves. Then, on a whim, he produce two streams simultaneously. He guided them as if they were his own appendages, never even touching the crystals even though they couldn't be damaged by fire. He added a third and fourth, and found if he swiped the stream over the wick fast enough, it would actually extinguish the flame. In a matter of moments, he had complete control over four simultaneous charms, even though a few moments earlier he'd never even tried two.

"How many can you make?" The tremble in Ginny's voice held more awe than sadness, now, which perked Harry up a bit.

"I don't know," Harry said, adding a fifth. He no longer bothered with the candles; the streams merely danced in increasingly intricate patterns.

"That looked like the twigs of my old broom," Ginny said, pointing upward as if they were cloud-watching, even though the image had probably only lasted a fraction of a second.

Harry had not seen it, so he began creating images in earnest. He smiled as he made a Firebolt made from bolts of fire, though Ginny didn't seem to get the joke. The broom turned sideways and a stylized silhouette rode astride it, flames giving the impression of movement. That morphed into the face of a grim, earning a gasp from Ginny, so he quickly changed it into large, majestic antlers of a stag. The antlers transformed into the wings of a dragon, and a sixth and seventh stream snaked up the center to form the body. The sharp-looking wings became feathery, and Harry adjusted the body into his best impression of Fawkes.

He could almost hear the phoenix song in his mind, so he held the image a moment, then tried to make the fire Fawkes flap his wings. The song grew in volume, so Harry closed his eyes and let the soothing sounds wash over him, absently continuing the movements from earlier.

Harry, what are you doing?" Ginny called, but he barely heard it. "Harry? HARRY!"

His eyes snapped open just in time to see the world erupt in flame.

* * *

The distant call of a phoenix urged Harry onward. What onward meant, he did not know. No sights greeted him; his eyes themselves did not seem to exist. No sense of touch or taste or smell seemed to reach him, only sound. Idly he wondered if this was how a bat felt all the time, and...shouldn't he be scared? He remembered fire, beautiful fire. And Ginny, angry and beautiful and wrong.

The phoenix call drew near, its call transforming into echoes of words. Was he turning into one? "Hello," it said, and then nonsense. "Hello?" The fire bloomed again, but...how could he see? The fire pulled in on itself, the world turned inside out, or perhaps right-side out, because suddenly it made sense again. "Hello?" Called a voice.

Harry opened his eyes, and found one hundred and sixty-eight crystals inside three stacked, wrought iron rings holding a total of twenty-three candles. Then a healthy-looking Sirius popped his head into view with a wide, mischievous grin. "Hello, Harry. I wasn't expecting you quite yet. Whose house did you burn down this time?"

Harry screamed and Apparated away.

* * *

A/N:

Yes? No? You hate me for not finishing one of my other stories?

As per usual, don't hold back on reviews. I love constructive critique, but I thoroughly appreciate every single one, even single word reviews or flames. I'll take whatever you've got.

I would also appreciate it if you would let me know what you think of what it comes to story rating. I usually just mark my stuff M and call it good, but this could probably be T for now.


	2. Chapter Two: Back from the Grave

**One Universe to the Left**

**Chapter Two**

**Back from the Grave**

* * *

_Harry opened his eyes, and found one hundred and sixty-eight crystals inside three stacked, wrought iron rings holding a total of twenty-three candles. Then a healthy-looking Sirius popped his head into view with a wide, mischievous grin. "Hello, Harry. I wasn't expecting you quite yet. Whose house did you burn down __this time?"_

_Harry shouted in alarm and Apparated away._

* * *

The first place Harry thought of was Hogwarts, but obviously with the wards that wouldn't work, so he chose the next best thing: the village of Hogsmeade. At least, he thought it would be the next best thing...until he landed in a pile of rubble where the alley behind Hog's Head Tavern should have been.

Quickly checking that he hadn't splinched himself from landing in such a mess, he emerged to find a much different and much emptier village than he'd been expecting. Not empty of people—that much was expected during the summer when no students could make their way down there—but it was empty of...heart. It could have been his imagination, but despite the bright summer sun, the entire village seemed to lack color, it was like he was seeing the town on a dreary, cloudy fall day. He fingered his wand nervously as he took in the blackened pockmarks, gashes, and holes that scarred the once manicured grounds and once lively shop facades. The fountain in the village square lay empty, cleaved in two by a level of magical power few wizards could produce.

How much had changed since he'd holed himself up in Grimmauld Place? The thought seemed preposterous almost as soon as it formed. In his seclusion he had completely avoided all news, both magical and Muggle, but surely Hermione or even Ginny would have mentioned an attack on Hogsmeade!

Memories of sensory deprivation and soothing phoenix song filled his mind and provided the explanation: far more time must have passed than he realized. Sirius must have been merely a hallucination upon waking from that...hallucination? Harry massaged his temples when his brain unsuccessfully tried to interpret and connect the most recent events in his memory: Ginny's visit, the phoenix song, Sirius, and now...this.

A dozen staccato pops of Apparition interrupted his confusion, and his heart stopped as he saw the black robes. However, no masks hid their faces, and most of newcomers sported a white armband except the man nearest him, who wore a red one with some sort of crest. "Who are you? What are you doing here?" The man with a red armband, clearly the leader, asked rather more harshly than Harry thought necessary.

"Er...just..." Harry stammered, planning to ignore the first question but not knowing what to say to the second. "I've been out of town...er, the country, really...and I—"

"He's lying! Take him! _Defodio_!"

A shimmering blue Shield Charm leapt into existence around Harry, but the Gouging Spell struck the ground at his feet, throwing him off-balance and spraying chips of rock up into his face. Half the Stunners ricocheted off the Shield and the others sailed over him as he purposefully continued his roll away from the follow-up attacks.

Unfortunately, his initial escape only encouraged his would-be captors to up the ante. When a sickly yellow Bone-Breaker rung his Shield like a gong, Harry knew he needed to flee post-haste. Recasting his Shield without breaking his roll, he fluidly rose to his feet and sprinted back the way he came, holding his wand behind him to continue deflecting curses.

"He's getting away," the leader barked, "get through the Shield! _Avada Kedavra_!"

Well, there went the last hope he was facing some new Auror unit. Not that Harry had gotten that feeling in the first place, considering they hadn't spread out to surround him, they were sticking to straight curses, and they hadn't even tried to close on him. The only remotely interesting thing they'd done was force him to lose his footing. Harry dropped the Shield and spun to face the sickly green curses - plural, as he'd heard at least two echoes - slashing his wand forcefully across his body. The silent Gouging Spell blasted a knee-high trench in the pavement behind which Harry once again rolled to the ground. Two Killing Curses rushed over his head while the third clipped the barrier, once again spraying him with chips of rock and dust.

Blood pounded in Harry's ears, stoking his fury. Who did these people think they were, and what the _hell_ had they done to Hogsmeade? He had tried to avoid fighting back, but they used the Killing Curse. That meant all bets were off. Less than a second passed since he had hit the ground and came back up to a crouch, time slowing as adrenaline pumped into his system. Ginny was dead wrong about fighting making him feel happy, but damn it to bloody hell, battle made him feel _alive_.

A swish-and-flick lifted chunks of torn up pavement into the air, and a vicious swipe Banished them at his attackers. A watermelon-sized chunk exploded as it intercepted a sickly-green curse, but it flew with such momentum that it only widened the barrage. A smaller rock smashed into the leader's shoulder, sending him spinning into one of his men. Four others went down clutching their legs and groins. Only two, the furthest back, got Shield Charms up in time and counterattacked.

Already moving, Harry dashed left and jabbed his wand forward, sending a full dozen thin streams of fire twisting their way toward the still-reeling Death Eaters. Several tried Flame-Freezing Charms, but the streams were so thin they missed. The smarter ones cast Shield Charms, which hissed and spat as the whips of flame raked the translucent blue half-domes. He attacked the edges relentlessly, forcing them to bunch together.

The Death Eaters tried to overlap Shield Charms, but with surgical precision, Harry slipped the flames through the cracks, forcing them back with screams of pain. "Retreat! Retreat!" The call finally came, and nine of them winked out of existence. Portkeys, unless Harry missed his guess.

His split Fire-Making Charm—idly Harry thought he needed to come up with a better name for it—fizzled out, though he remained tense and vigilant with his eyes trained on the three remaining enemies. When he registered no movement or sound but the wind lightly brushing the trees in the distance, Harry approached, and with three sharp flicks of his wand, hit each with a thick, blood red Stunner. The bodies didn't even twitch.

Steeling himself, blood still pounding, Harry knelt to check the nearest. A slash of angry red and orange skin crossed his face, passing over a ruined left eye and disappearing by his right ear. A regular pulse, far slower than Harry's own, proved the man was still alive.

Cruelty did not play a factor in Harry's decision to leave him as-is; he knew no healing spells that might help such vicious wounds, nor could he create a Portkey or otherwise get him to safety. He didn't know where St. Mungo's was anyway. The man's wand remained in his hand, a measure of mercy that surely would not have been afforded him had their situations been reversed.

The next one wasn't so lucky. Blood dripped ever so slowly out of the open wound on his hideously bruised neck, a sure sign that a sharp chunk of rock flying at high velocity took his life. Harry Scoured the pool of blood away and conjured a plain, white shroud to cover the corpse. Conjuring flexible material was considerably harder for Harry than simple stone, so he counted that another kindness.

Before he could do more than extinguish the fire on the third, yet another series of pops—fewer this time, no more than four—sent Harry diving for cover. It was no use: they'd Apparated directly in line-of-sight of his hiding place.

The man in the lead...there was no mistaking him. Despite the plain robes and different hat, Harry recognized him immediately. But that was impossible...Harry _saw_ him die. Harry _watched_ the man's lifeless body lowered into the grave.

His mind raced to justify it. The Killing Curse didn't kill everybody it hit, now did it? But he was buried! Wizards can refresh the air in a coffin, otherwise the Bubble-Head Charm would suffocate the caster in short order. But the Elder Wand...

His thoughts cut off abruptly as a one-legged, hideously scarred man clopped into view, along with another man Harry didn't recognize. "Pardon me," Albus Dumbledore called out from across the courtyard. "Would you mind—"

Before Harry could hear any more or come to any conclusion on why the greatest wizard in his lifetime would fake his death, he jumped up and Apparated away to the first place that popped into his head where they wouldn't think to look for him.

* * *

The captain's chair in Sirius' kitchen, Albus mused, was a good place to think. He sat with his elbows on the armrests, hands slowly stroking his long, scruffy beard, temporarily freed from his belt for this very purpose. The little tugs jarred ideas loose, he always claimed. "Who was it, Albus?"

The aged former headmaster sighed and let his gaze roam over the five Order members that had immediately answered his summons before turning back to his rather exhausted-looking successor. "I am afraid we simply do not know, Minerva. He seemed familiar somehow, but his face and clothing were covered in soot."

"Bah, we don't even know it was him that did them," Alastor Moody cut in harshly. "He was probably just some scavenger. The rest of the bloody _Aurors_ probably took the one who did it." His face twisted into an ugly, scarred grimace every time he called them that, not that Albus could blame him. The Aurors had become the very things they were meant to stop. The travesty left a sour taste in the aged, former Auror's mouth, Albus know, and not the pleasant, lemon sherbet sour.

"Mad-Eye's right," Frank Longbottom cut in. "He looked young to me...he couldn't've been long out of school. Hell, he was probably some recruit left behind to clean the mess."

"I believe you are both mistaken," Albus said. "Consider his reaction to our appearance, both the speed of his diving for cover and eventual hesitation when he saw us, and the casual way he extinguished the flames on one of the bodies just as we appeared. The damage to those bodies was ghastly. That, to me, speaks of a man used to the horrors of battle."

Frank looked thoughtful, and Alastor just grunted, which meant much the same thing.

"What could it mean, Albus?" The ever fidgety Dedalus Diggle looked especially nervous, even though he hadn't been anywhere near there, and he generally stayed hidden.

Elphias Doge, the other immediate arrival, said nothing. As usual, Albus' old friend seemed to be catching up on sleep. He hated being alone at his house, Albus knew, ever since Mrs. Doge died decades earlier.

"I must admit I do not know, Dedalus. The man's hesitation and flight are puzzling indeed." He trailed off, trying to determine why the subject of their conversation seemed familiar.

Minerva broke the thoughtful silence that followed. "If you'd like to share the memory, Albus, I may recognize him."

"An excellent suggestion, Minerva...clearly we will find no answers between the three of us who witnessed the event. However, I think it best we wait for our fellow members of the Order. There is no sense repeating the story several times, and Nymphadora's report may shed some light on this mystery."

"Oh, a mystery, you say?"

Albus turned and smiled at the ostentatious voice that called from the doorway to the kitchen. "Indeed, Sirius. I am surprised to find you have arrived so promptly."

Sirius chuckled at that. "Yes, well, don't get used to it. Something strange happened earlier—"

"I like how the fact that this is your house had nothing to do with you actually showing up on time," a new voice broke in.

"Moony!" Sirius slapped his friend on the shoulder. "You should know me better than that, old chap. How are you?"

"Recovered," Remus Lupin said. With the full moon only two days past, his voice disagreed, but Albus smiled at the man anyway. "You were saying?"

"As much as I would like to hear the answer to that," Albus cut in, "perhaps we should wait for the others."

Bill Weasley slipped in wordlessly, giving only curt nods in greeting until Emmeline Vance came in and continued to try to break through the redhead's melancholy. The McKinnons followed shortly thereafter, Douglas and Darlene along with their eldest, Glenn. Albus still fondly recalled the boy as the most fair-minded Slytherin Prefect in years. "And how is young Elspeth?" Albus asked once they'd traded greetings.

"Fine," Marlene answered curtly. "Still too young for the Order."

He held his hands up in surrender. "Come now, Marlene, I didn't mean to imply—"

"Of course you didn't," she said, cutting him off with an arched eyebrow. Albus started to make a placating gesture, but her eyes slid back to the door and immediately softened. "Lily! How are you, dear?" Albus turned in time to see James and Lily Potter mobbed by the McKinnons, Sirius and Remus, who'd immediately risen when the Potters entered. "How are the kids?"

"Oh, fine," Lily said. "Rose is watching William for the moment. She said you came by, Sirius?"

He nodded. "Yeah, looking for Harry."

"Oh, Harry said he'd be here late," James said. "We got his note just a minute before we came."

Sirius looked confused a moment, but another arrival distracted him.

"Oi, Siri! You gonna let me in here, or do I have to hulk out and scare you outta the doorway?" Nymphadora Tonks strolled in with bright green skin - a joke Albus didn't get, but he chuckled anyway. Youth in high spirits always lifted his own; being surrounded by so many happy children was the thing he missed most about being headmaster at Hogwarts.

"Thank you all for coming," Albus finally called, gesturing for everybody to sit when they turned at the sound of his voice. "Now, you will all be pleased to know—"

"'Ang on there, Dumbledore," another voice called from the door. "I'm 'ere, I'm 'ere."

"Of course, Mundungus, thank you for joining us," Albus said, chuckling to himself and ignoring the eye rolls Mundungus received from most of the Order. "As I was saying, You will all be pleased to know first of all that nothing bad has happened. I was made aware that someone was near the former Hog's Head Tavern," he said, reflexively not mentioning the hidden cellar where his alarm ward was anchored, even though all members of the Order knew about it. "I gathered Frank and Alastor to investigate, and upon arrival it was readily apparent that a small battle had just occurred near the central fountain." At least, it _was_ the central fountain up until a few years ago, but Albus did not mention that. "We discovered some puzzling facts, so before sharing them I would like to start with Nymphadora, if you please. What news from the Ministry?"

She cringed slightly at his referring to her by her first name, but he knew she had long accepted his insistence on calling her that. "Well, the office is in an uproar, of course. A newly-trained squad of Inquisitors was dispatched to Hogsmeade when the alert ward around the old Hog's Head tripped. Out of the twelve, only two came back unharmed. Three didn't come back at all. I didn't see the injured, but I heard they were pretty well burned and beaten. They tried to hush it up later, but word is it was a single 'dissident.'"

"Only one, you say?" Albus glanced at Frank and Alastor, who took the news with some surprise.

Frank whistled. "That kid did a number on them."

"So it would seem," Albus agreed.

Nymphadora gave him a questioning look. "Kid?"

"I believe Frank, Alastor, and I arrived shortly after the Inquisitors fled," he said. "A young man had apparently covered one of the bodies with a sheet, and, just as we arrived, he extinguished the flames on another. He dove into an Alleyway straight ahead of us shortly thereafter, and then he Disapparated when I called out to him."

The room fell silent after that, thinking of the possibilities. Albus noted even Elphias had a scrunched up look of confusion at that.

"So you saw him," Nymphadora clarified.

"Indeed, although we did not see him very well," Albus said. "In fact, he was quite dirty, though the battlefield was fairly damaged, so perhaps that should not be surprising. Oddly, though, he seemed to be covered in soot."

"What?" Sirius jumped up suddenly, startling several members of the Order. "Soot?"

"That is correct," Albus said.

"What's this about, Padfoot?" James asked.

"That's what I was going to tell you earlier. I found Harry lying in the drawing room not an hour ago, dazed and disoriented. I woke him up and he screamed and Disapparated. Albus, he was covered in soot."

"What?" This time James jumped up.

"That's not funny, Sirius Orion Black," Lily said harshly.

Sirius put his hands up. "No, Lils, I swear! That's why I popped over to your house to see if he'd gone there. I knew he'd get the meeting notice so I came back here before I could search any further."

"We've got to go look for him," James said. "If he came back early and didn't tell us..."

"Look for who?" Another new voice sounded from the door.

Albus turned and found himself looking into the bright green eyes of Harry Potter, and suddenly the familiarity he felt back in Hogsmeade came rushing back. But surely it wasn't... "You," Albus said.

* * *

A/N:

Short, fast-paced...I'm not even giving the characters time to finish what they're saying. Frustrating? Realistic?

In case it wasn't obvious, the Harry Potter that just showed up is the one native to this universe. A couple early readers were confused about that.

Thanks for reading! Let me know what you think.

EDIT (7 Sept 2014)

Updated some of Dumbledore's dialogue after receiving some comments that he didn't sound quite right. I agreed.


	3. Chapter Three: Ambush

**One Universe to the Left**

**Chapter Three**

**Ambush**

* * *

The rusty, decrepit playground a block away from the Dursleys' house on Privet Drive looked just as Harry remembered it. Nobody other than he would ever come to sit on the only swing whose seat wasn't hanging straight down by a single chain. Sure, Dudley and his gang used to come around to look for Harry, or smoke out of view of their families, but just as he hoped, it was empty this time.

Sure enough, nobody witnessed his appearance, but memories of his flight from Dementors several years ago came roaring back. "Shit." The Ministry detects magic in Muggle areas. He sprinted away toward the wooded area of the old park, vaulting over a familiar collapsed section of the split rail fence between the single-lane, gravel road and the high grass leading to the trees. Only when he reached the first of the thick-trunked, mature trees did he stop for breath. He leaned up against the tree, panting hard as he kept his eyes on the playground in the distance.

Several minutes ticked by and nobody came. His mind wandered to all the times he and Hermione had cast wards in the middle of nowhere, and he felt stupid. They wouldn't know unless a Muggle reported it, would they? Or if he was underage, which is why they knew of the Dementors. Yeah, he felt really stupid.

Flopping down with his back to the trunk, Harry laid his head back to think.

No answers came to him. Someone was impersonating Sirius and got into Grimmauld Place. Someone was impersonating both Dumbledore and Moody. Everybody knew Sirius Black and Albus Dumbledore were dead, so what did they have to gain by impersonating them? And Moody? Why would they bother with copying his body, crippled as it was? It didn't make any sense!

And the state of Hogsmeade...how long had he been out? That had to be part of the explanation, and was the easiest and safest to check.

Minutes later, Harry slipped onto the front porch of his relatives' old house. The people that must have moved in after the Dursleys left had clearly gone on vacation judging by the pile of unopened newspapers on the porch, which was a comforting fact. So he grabbed what appeared to be the most recent edition and unrolled it.

It was the same day.

He might have been a paragon of laziness over the past weeks, but he knew what day it had been when Ginny came to see him. July 8th, 1998. Not a single day had passed since he disappeared.

"Hey, you better have a good reason for being there or else I'm calling the constable," a familiar voice called out in warning from across the street.

His eyes quickly came back into focus and he flipped the paper over to check the label for the subscriber for his cover story. He dropped the paper when he saw it.

"That's it, I'm calling—"

"Wait, wait, Mr. Lerner, wasn't it?" Harry recovered from the shock and recognized the man from years ago. Thankfully he stopped, surprised to hear his name. "I'm just here to take Aunt Petunia's papers in," Harry said, then mentally cursed himself for such a poor cover story. He blamed the surprise of finding out his relatives had moved back. "And water her plants."

The man eyed him suspiciously a moment longer. "And clean out her fireplace, I suppose?"

Harry quickly looked down at himself and realized he was still covered in bits of ash and soot from the ruins of Hog's Head Tavern. "Er, yeah, that was a bit of a mess, I suppose. Anyway, thank you for keeping an eye on her house, I'll be sure to tell her you were looking out for her." He quickly grabbed up the papers, subtly flicked his wand to unlock the door, and slipped quietly inside.

The slight differences his eyes picked out reassured him that his relatives had indeed moved away and moved back. The layout was the same, but the furniture and electronics in the living room appeared fancier than before. They'd sure put the Order's funds to good use, he thought wryly.

Oddly, Harry thought as he climbed the stairs toward the bathroom, being at the Dursleys was the most reassuring experience Harry had had since he woke up from whatever he did. He pulled a fresh towel from the linen closet and entered the bathroom, whose decor had also been updated. Within a few moments he stood unmoving under the shower head, reveling in the feeling of the hot water scouring both the dirt and grime from his body and the troubling thoughts from his mind.

_So much better than any charm to do the same._

Some indeterminate amount of time later, Harry noticed the water had lost most of its heat. He turned the water up as high as it could go, then quickly shampooed his hair, soaped up, and rinsed off before it cooled down too much. Feeling rejuvenated, he toweled off, breathing in the pleasant, flowery scent of Aunt Petunia's towels.

With a final sigh of contentment, he slipped on his glasses and swiped his wand from the shower caddy, then opened the door to go see what clothing he could scrounge up out of Dudley's second bedroom.

The business end of three wands poked him in the chest before he even registered what he saw. A feminine gasp brought his eyes up to meet a piercing, green-eyed glare from the woman on his left. His last thought before the red light of a Stunner filled his vision was that, through all the pictures from Hagrid and on Professor Slughorn's desk, all of his experiences with the Mirror of Erised, her ghostly appearance from the Priori Incantatem...through all of that, he'd never seen his mum so angry.

* * *

"What happened, Harry?" Sirius asked finally into the confused silence that followed. "Why'd you run away from me?"

"Forget that," James cut in, "what the hell were you doing _alone_ in Hogsmeade? You know you can't go place like that, especially not alone!"

"What are you guys on about? I was working with Saul the entire time, just like you asked me to!" Harry's defensive tone held no trace of deceit, Lily knew. Mother's intuition told her that much. Well, that and her thorough knowledge of his tells, which she wouldn't miss even in the dim light of Grimmauld Place's kitchen. Harry was a brilliant wizard, but the poor boy couldn't lie to save his life.

Well, not to her, at least. Actually, that was a failing he shared with James, who, she had to admit, was a good liar otherwise. Perhaps Harry did bear closer scrutiny.

"How is that possible?" Sirius asked accusingly. "I think I can recognize my own godson, covered in shit or not."

"Soot, Sirius," Lily said, shooting him a glare. "I also think Harry would remember being covered in it and waking up unconscious."

Harry gave her a grateful smile, which she felt was earnest as well. "Thank you, mum."

Dumbledore cleared his throat and offered, "I am certain Saul would corroborate young Harry's claim."

"So what the hell did I see?" Sirius yelled. "What did you see, Albus?"

"It must have been someone using Polyjuice," Lily said. "That's the only explanation."

"But why would somebody who went through the trouble of obtaining both Polyjuice Potion and Harry's hair go and fight the Inquisitors?" James said. "It doesn't make sense!"

"Well, it wasn't me," Harry said firmly, though Lily thought that at that point it was unnecessary since it didn't look like anyone still entertained the idea. She shot him a supportive look, but his eyes were busy traveling the room waiting for someone to challenge him, so he didn't notice.

"It was a group of new recruits, wasn't it? Maybe it was training for capturing Harry and they did something wrong," Remus offered after a few moments of silence. "If he was a veteran that could explain the damage he did."

"But...that's..." James said, trailing off. Lily agreed. This explanation stretched beyond believability, but no better alternative had presented itself. She racked her brain to be the first to offer one.

"I agree, James," Dumbledore said some minutes later, once it became clear nobody had anything else to say. "While fear of failure has ever been Voldemort's primary tactic, this feels—"

A sudden, sharp vibration of her bracelet broke her concentration and caused Lily to jump up out of her chair with a gasp.

James immediately rose to meet her. "What is it? What's wrong?"

"My sister's," she said, fingering the bracelet, "somebody's tripped the wards."

"Do you think it could be related?" James asked Dumbledore in a low voice.

"It seems too much of a coincidence to be otherwise," the aged wizard said, stroking his beard with his brows furrowed in thought.

"It doesn't matter," Lily said. "I'm going."

"You don't know anything about this guy, if it's even the same guy," James argued. "Or even if it's only one. Let me go instead."

"You don't know your way around there," she said, rolling her eyes. What was it with men and their need to be chivalrous even when it didn't make sense? Besides, she would crush her husband in a duel...not that she would ever tell him that. "As far as I can tell, the wards only registered a single wizard. But we can both go, just in case."

"I'll go, too," Sirius said, looking sideways at Harry. "I want to see this guy again."

Remus looked like he wanted to say something, but he looked so exhausted. Lily placed a hand on his shoulder, letting him know she appreciated the thought. He gave her his usual self-deprecating smile.

"I want to—" Harry began.

"NO!" Lily highly appreciated it when approximately half the room joined in that one.

"—stay here, apparently," he finished.

"I will accompany the three of you myself," Dumbledore said.

"Albus, if that boy really took out ten Inquisitors...I don't care if they were fresh out of Voldemort's academy, that makes him dangerous," Moody said. "I'm going, too. It's a Muggle neighborhood. Station me outside the house, or a block away."

"Thank you Alastor," Lily said before James could make a snide remark about vigilance.

"Very well, it seems our team is assembled," Dumbledore said, implicitly allowing time for further volunteers to step forward. As Lily expected, none did.

Some, like Headmistress McGonagall and Auror Tonks were automatically exempt from Order operations like this, and often missed the meetings. The more elderly members mainly provided intelligence. The McKinnons and the Potters had a curious relationship. Both families were wealthy benefactors of the Order, active members, and good friends, but they almost always disagreed on matters like the Dark Arts and how captured Death Eaters should expect to be treated. So while Douglas and Glenn would be welcome wands to have at their backs, by unspoken agreement they always refrained from getting involved in the same operations. Remus would have joined them if the full moon had not been so recent. Bill Weasley would have joined them if it meant fighting Death Eaters, which seemed highly unlikely, and Emmeline Vance usually followed him.

Albus must have come to the same conclusion, because very little time had passed before he concluded the meeting, for which Lily was thankful considering it was her sister in trouble. "I would like the rest of you to await our return, though I will send word if anything unexpected occurs. With any luck our mystery will be resolved in minutes."

Lily took Sirius while James took Mad-Eye, while Dumbledore somehow followed them of his own accord, despite Lily being fairly certain he'd never been to Privet Drive in his life. True to his plan, Mad-Eye immediately Disillusioned himself and split off, somehow moving perfectly silently despite his clunky wooden prosthetic leg that he refused to upgrade

The other four Transfigured their clothing into Muggle attire and set off toward Petunia's house. Lily mentally sighed at the hopelessly out-of-style suit Dumbledore chose, which wouldn't look out of place if he had a powdered wig atop his head.

"Are you here to pick up Petunia's nephew?"

Lily turned incredulously to the Muggle across the street. "Pardon?"

"Petunia's nephew," he repeated. "He went in a few moments ago, took in the post, cleaned the fireplace, and watered the flowers. Nice of you to look after their house while they're away, even though I don't recall meeting you in the ten years or so I've been around."

"Well, I'm Petunia's sister, Lily," she said finally, walking over to introduce herself. The relief that Petunia was away from the house was clear in her voice. James followed, but thankfully Albus and Sirius stayed behind, keeping their eyes glued to Number Four.

"Ah, your son, then! A fine young man you've raised, ma'am."

"Th-thank you, Mr. ...?"

"Lerner."

"Thank you, Mr. Lerner," James cut in smoothly. He shook the neighbor's hand. "I'm James. Well, my dear. We'd best get in there before our son works himself to death."

"Er, what was his name?" The man asked as soon as they turned around. "I didn't catch it earlier."

James and Lily froze and slowly turned.

"Harry," Lily said, feeling a odd chill at this turn of events. First Sirius, now this man... "Our son's name is Harry." She let James steer her away, and she finally shook herself out of her stupor when she realized Dumbledore was speaking to her. "Sorry, what?"

"Whoever it is claimed to be your son," Dumbledore said slowly. "And Sirius mistook him for Harry as well. How does he know where your sister lives?"

"I just don't know, Albus," Lily said, thoroughly baffled. "She made it quite clear she didn't want anything to do with us, even though we had children the same age. It was so long ago that I don't think even our Harry would remember this place, let alone someone outside our family."

"_Your_ Harry?" Sirius asked with a raised eyebrow.

"The _real_ Harry," Lily said quickly, "you know what I meant."

"She's right, Albus," James added. "Even I wouldn't have been able to find this myself."

"Mysteries within mysteries," Albus mused. "Whatever the case may be, we will find no answers on this doorstep."

Gathering herself, Lily nodded and unlocked the door. James and Sirius took the lead, the former opening the door while the latter quietly dashed in to the nearest cover. Lily almost chuckled when Dumbledore merely strolled into the seemingly empty house as if he had not a care in the world. "He's in the shower," he said in a quiet voice once all four had gathered near the entrance, at the bottom of the stairs.

Sirius grumbled something about cheeky old men, though it was a hollow attempt usual humor. Clearly he felt partially responsible for not capturing the impostor even though he had no way of knowing.

Albus waved his wand at the stairs, silently casting what Lily recognized as a Hardening Charm to avoid any creaking. Despite his apparently casual demeanor, Albus Dumbledore remained fully aware of potential missteps that could ruin the element of surprise.

Minutes later the four of them stood outside the bathroom door, listening to the steady droning of a bathroom air vent and running water. A quick sweep with the Human Revealing Charm had allayed James' fear that the shower was a diversion.

Eventually the sounds began to change, and it became clear for the first time that somebody was actually in the shower. He must have been just standing still the whole time, which made the four share a look of concern that he'd heard them. Dumbledore held a finger to his lips and stepped lightly away to a position down the hall, from which he could supply backup if they needed it.

The others took that as their cue to take up positions. As one, James and Lily took the left and right of the doorway, since they were right- and left-handed, respectively. After a moment of hesitation, Sirius stepped to James' side, who immediately motioned for him to protect Lily.

A firm glare and acute gestures indicating that Sirius was also right-handed and should stay there quite effectively put a stop to that suggestion. That Sirius nervously shuffled his way behind a contrite James gave her a sense of sharp satisfaction before the underlying tension of their situation returned.

The water turned off, magnifying the pounding of Lily's heart in her ears. Her husband and his best friend immediately hardened their faces, erasing what small levity they shared a moment earlier. Seconds ticked by in agonizing slowness, and tension coiled in her stomach as she listened to the muffled movements of the intruder drying himself. A strange sense of incongruity struck her when she heard a sigh of obvious contentment, but that, too, disappeared at the suddenly loud sound of the doorknob turning.

All three of the ambushers sprang in front of the door, and Lily's mind blanked. There, standing completely starkers not three feet in front of her, was the impostor, still looking for all the world like her son with a towel in his left hand and a wand in his right.

How dare he take Harry's form? How _dare_ he?

At point blank range, her Stunner only created a brief flash of light before the impostor flopped bonelessly to the floor.

Lily didn't move. She didn't say anything. Her anger gave way to confusion as she replayed his emergence over and over in her head. She barely noticed James lead her away, because none of her thoughts fit together. None of the facts added up. No reasonable conclusions presented themselves. This person was not Harry, that much was obvious.

So why did she feel like this?

* * *

A/N:

I spent thirty seconds looking at pictures and checking the HP wiki to see if there was any hint of handedness between James and Lily (no such hint for Lily, though James appears to use his wand in his right hand in the movie). I figured that was more than enough for what amounts to an insignificant detail, and it hammers home a bit of the dynamic between Lily and James that I showed earlier (his protectiveness versus her competence).

Thanks for reading! I've received some great feedback so far that resulted in improvements to the last two chapters, so please continue. All comments are very much appreciated.


	4. Chapter Four: Doppelganger

**One Universe to the Left**

**Chapter Four**

**Doppelganger**

* * *

"These are old scars, Albus...far too old to have been placed on him recently," the school matron Poppy Pomfrey said. "And look at the mild skeletal differences and lowered bone density in his mandibles, pelvis, and legs. Look at the slight curvature in the spine here and here, the lean musculature and lack of body fat...this man has lived a far more difficult life than Harry, there's no doubt about it. I'd even guess chronic undernourishment, if not malnourishment in his youth, though he recovered well enough. That also may explain the severity of his nearsightedness; his glasses are far stronger than Harry needs." She stood and regarded her former boss, her current boss, the three Potters, and Sirius and Remus in one of the guest rooms at Grimmauld Place. The other Order members had been sent home, though Alastor had looked mutinous at the idea. "Normal Polyjuice would have worn off by now, but even if it were some variant we don't know of, the magic required to modify a Polyjuiced body like this would be incredibly painful. The more likely explanation is that someone else was made to look like Harry, but even that..." She shook her head. "I don't know. If there is magic at work here, I don't know of it. It's possible it was some Muggle procedure."

"A Muggle procedure?" James blurted out the question Albus knew everybody was thinking.

"I'm just grasping at straws here, Mr. Potter," Poppy said shortly. "Your best bet is to wake him and ask him yourself."

"Thank you, Poppy," Albus said, "I do believe you are correct. We seem to have uncovered more difficult questions than we have answered, but it is comforting, at least, to hear that you are as thoroughly baffled as we." He received odd looks at that statement but merely smiled through them. Had she come up with a simple explanation, he might have started to believe the widespread reports of his mental infirmity leading up to his forced resignation from Hogwarts. Albus was fairly confident in his own mental acuity, of course, but then, so was Headmaster Dippet before the end of his long life.

"I should be the one to wake him," James immediately volunteered.

"Well, he screamed his arse off when he saw me, so I'm out," Sirius said, his weak attempt at a joke drawing no laughs.

"I don't think it should be either of us, James," Lily said with a faraway look in her eyes. Then she turned to him, adding, "there was something about the moment we...the moment _I_ Stunned him. It was...I've replayed it over and over in my mind..." She trailed off and blushed. "Our eyes only met for a fraction of a second, and it felt...off. Wrong. It sounds silly since he was probably just surprised to see the mother of the man whose identity he'd taken, but the more I think about it, the more wrong it feels. The more wretched _I_ feel for Stunning him."

"Don't feel bad, this guy obviously deserved it," James said, face hardening as he looked over at the impostor.

"I know, and I keep telling myself that," Lily said, starting to get emotional. "And I _was_ angry, but when I Stunned him, he didn't even try to defend himself..." She paused a moment, trying to hold it together. "It...I know it's not Harry, but it felt like...I betrayed my son."

"Lily..." James murmured, pulling her into an embrace. He looked to Albus, silently asking for permission to take her from the room and receiving it. Despite his obvious shock at his mother's breakdown, their eldest son shuffled out of their line of sight in his bid to stay.

Albus gave him a small smile and cleared his throat to bring the meeting back on track. "Well, I cannot wake him either," he said. "Now that Lily said it, I believe it likely that he recognized me as well, that day in Hogsmeade. Many of our number seem to confuse and distress him."

"I believe either Minerva or Poppy should do it," Remus said. "If he reacted that way to you, my presence may have the same effect."

"A fine point, Remus," Albus said. He had thought the same thing, in fact, but he would rather they rule themselves out. "I agree. Unless we have any other suggestions?"

"I could do it," Harry said with a grin. "Just get me a mirror frame and Stick me to the ceiling. He'll never know the difference."

Sirius barked out a laugh, finally breaking the tension that had hung over them for the last two hours. "I dunno, Harry, this bloke's better looking than you."

"Oh, please, he's just a creepy doppelganger," Harry said with a sniff, then he glanced circumspectly over to the bed. He obviously took after Sirius in attempting to use humor to settle his nerves. "The scars are kind of wicked, though."

"What do you know about mirrors on the ceiling, anyway?" Sirius asked with a raised eyebrow.

Harry grinned mischievously...a look Albus had seen more than once a generation earlier. "Let's just say that Lavender Brown is really, really vain."

Minerva cleared her throat pointedly, causing Harry to quickly duck his head with a thick blush on his cheeks. Albus pressed his lips together to avoid smiling in front of his successor. "Back to the question at hand," she said delicately, "Poppy and I could very well be in the same boat as you, Albus."

"True," he conceded. He looked over each person in the room, then said, "I am not certain what he finds so disagreeable about those of us he's seen so far, but I believe Poppy may prove to be the optimal choice."

"How do you figure?" Sirius asked.

"That is simple, she is the only one who is not a member of the Order. It's a tenuous link between you, Lily, and I, but I cannot think of a better one." Albus turned back to Poppy with a concerned. "It could be dangerous, though, if word gets out that you've helped us."

"It's fine," she said, waving away his concern. "If he recognizes me, he should know I'm here to help. Headmistress?"

"If you are agreeable, Poppy, I am as well," Minerva said, then turned to her long-time mentor. "Though I would prefer if you stayed, too, in case she needs you."

"Very well, I shalll Disillusion myself and remain prepared should you need me," Albus said. "Any other objections?"

"I'd like to be here when he wakes," Sirius said. "I can Disillusion myself just as well as you. I want to know who he is."

"Me, too, then," Harry quickly said, as though drawing too much attention to himself might disqualify him. In reality, Albus knew the young man's training with Saul placed Harry on better than equal terms with this year's crop of Hogwarts' graduates, though he had not been allowed to attend himself. Such a shame...but Albus tried not to think of how much they—and he in particular—had lost on that front.

"If one extra person is here, we may as well all be here, Albus," Remus put in. "I'll go get James and Lily."

Upon hearing that, Harry quickly tapped his wand to his head. "Would you just conveniently forget to mention that I'm here?" His hopeful smile melted into invisibility.

* * *

Harry's eyes snapped open and darted around the room, taking in the blurry blobs of color that formed what he estimated to be a bedroom. Not from the blobs of color, that is, but the feeling of sheets against his body.

"Good evening, young man," a familiar voice said before he could move. "Here are your glasses."

He jumped at the sound of the voice, but when he slipped on his glasses, he couldn't help but smile broadly and fall back on the bed, subconsciously recognizing the bedroom as one of the extra ones at Grimmauld Place. "Madam Pomfrey! Merlin, am I glad to see you." He lay his head back and took a few deep breaths. "You wouldn't believe the dream I had. Did Ginny get you to come? Where is she?"

"Oh, she said she had to leave," Madam Pomfrey said briskly. "Why don't you tell me about this dream you had?"

Harry raised an eyebrow at her theatrically. "You've never asked about things like that before. Normally you just shove Potions down my throat and make me stay in bed way longer than necessary."

She cracked a small smile while he chuckled. "Well, you do seem to be fine physically," she began with a small hitch, though Harry barely registered it. "But I wanted to check your mental health. If you'd prefer to avoid discussing your dream, I suppose we can start with the basics." She moved to her cart of medical supplies, something Harry had never seen before. He'd never seen her work anywhere but the Hogwarts Hospital Wing, though, so it made sense she had a way to carry Potions and...whatever else she needed when she made house calls. She dipped a quill in ink and stooped slightly. "What is your full name?"

He laughed. "Harry James Potter."

It took her longer than he thought necessary to write that down, though _why_ she needed to write it down, he wasn't sure. Or perhaps she was just writing something else entirely. "Date of birth?"

"July 31, 1980."

"Your parents' names?"

All traces of Harry's former smile faded from his face. "James and Lily Potter."

"And where do they live?"

Harry jerked to a sitting position and glared fiercely. "Is that some kind of sick joke?"

Madam Pomfrey stumbled back, holding her hands up. "My apologies," she said shakily, making Harry feel a bit at her fear. Not once could he remember her nerves shaken like that, not even when a basilisk slithered freely around the castle, nearly killing several students. Still, the question was uncalled for. "These are standard questions asked to children who have endured unknown magical damage—"

"—and you just happened to forget my parents died almost seventeen years ago?" He asked, gritting his teeth as he continued to try to tamp down his anger.

"I am sorry," she repeated, "but they are meant to assess your emotional state as well..."

Harry took a deep breath. "Fine. It's fine. I am...sorry, too. Hermione keeps telling me to think and talk more openly about what I'm feeling, so I've been dealing with my emotions ever since the end of the war..." He recalled briefly his belated musings over what could have been between them, adding "...or so she says."

"The _end_ of the war?" Madam Pomfrey asked slowly.

"Yeah, I know, I know," Harry said, laying back down, "I shouldn't've bottled it up, right? But to lose Sirius so soon, and then Albus, and then...Remus...Tonks..." Harry trailed off, letting the pain wash over him as Hermione had instructed. Tears flowed steadily down his cheeks, and focusing on the grief, he didn't feel embarrassed in the least.

Madam Pomfrey, it seemed, did, as she looked away toward the wall. She probably felt the same dull ache he did.

"I dream about them all the time, just as they were...even healthier than they were," Harry said after some moments. "You asked about my dream. That's what I saw: the dead come back to life. It was so real...and so painful...that I ran away."

"I...I see."

Harry wiped at his face, deciding that was enough grief for the moment. "But I know I'm not the only one who's lost family and friends. Hell, for me it's only been three years since Cedric. Take Molly Weasley...she lost her brothers twenty years ago, only to have Voldemort come back and restart a war that claimed one of her sons. Or Andromeda Tonks, to have family fighting on opposite sides and losing most of them. I simply cannot imagine how much that hurts..." He trailed off, pondering the emotional strength of those women for a moment, inevitably comparing his own. He found himself wanting. "I just can't imagine. I've been...hiding from them, I think." He really needed to go see Teddy again. Andromeda only reluctantly let him out of her arms, but soon enough Harry would have to step up and be a godfather for him. Remus and Tonks _chose_ him, and he could not keep hiding from that. Remus and Tonks...Harry didn't even get to say goodbye. "I can't help but wonder, what if I had been faster? Stronger?"

"We all wish we could have done more," Madam Pomfrey said, her voice suddenly far away. "When my father was killed, I'll never forget what my mother told me. She said, 'Regret is always a powerful emotion, you just have to decide whether it motivates you or drowns you.' She became a world-renowned healer in the years that followed."

Harry's eyebrows lifted. "Hermione has always told me not to blame myself, but I've never thought about regret as a motivator. That's brilliant."

"She also became obsessed with finding ways to heal the most grievous wounds, and, after a battle with Grindelwald's forces, lost her life attempting to heal a man on the verge of death, using an experimental charm she hadn't perfected." The stern matron of Hogwarts was back. "Let that be a lesson to you as well."

"Well, you don't have to worry about that as far as I'm concerned," Harry said firmly. "I am most certainly not obsessing over defeating any more dark wizards, else I would have taken up one of the offers from the Aurors." His tone softened when he remembered what she had just done, though. He doubted Madam Pomfrey opened up like that very often. "But thank you for sharing your story, it must have been difficult watching her do that to herself."

She blushed slightly in embarrassment, turning away and coughing in an attempt to hide it. "Yes, well...anyway, that is ancient history. Let's finish your examination, shall we?"

"Godric's Hollow."

"What?"

"That's where my parents are, Godric's Hollow graveyard, real close to the Peverells and the Dumbledores, actually," Harry said. Less than a year ago he had found that out, so it still felt strange. Not terribly sad, since he had only really met shades and photographs of his parents, but strange. He ought to go visit there again, let them know what happened. "Except for Albus, of course."

She cleared her throat and shuffled uncomfortably again, then changed the subject. "Of course. Now, why don't you tell me about these scars?"

Harry snorted in response to her business-like manner. "You treated most of them, Madam Pomfrey," he pointed out.

"Of course, but I can hardly be expected to remember the circumstances of every scar on each of my patients, can I? Now, how about this one on your shoulder?"

He chuckled. "Ah, yes, the Hungarian Horntail sure has earned its name, hasn't it?"

"You fought a _dragon_?"

The incredulity in her voice confused him. "No...Madam Pomfrey, are you...alright? The Triwizard Tournament was only three years ago."

She seemed to remember herself again. "Yes...yes, of course, I'm only testing your memory, you see. How about this one?" She pointed to a faint line on his chest.

"Er...I...well, I don't remember," he said still somewhat confused about her reaction. And at the fact that he didn't remember, he felt a blush of embarrassment rising. "Sorry, it...must have happened at the Dursleys when I was younger."

"I see," she said, stooping over to write something.

"Well I can hardly to be expected to remember the circumstances of every scar when I have so many, can I?" He asked somewhat defensively.

"I suppose. Okay, how about this one?" She indicated a thick, raised, somewhat circular scar on his forearm.

"Oh yeah, the basilisk," Harry said, tracing the scar. "Now _that_ hurt. I suppose Fawkes did the treatment on that one."

Madam Pomfrey paled and looked like she wanted to say something, but she shook her head and scribbled something onto her parchment. "Sorry, it's easy to forget just how much you've gone through."

"Well at least you got most of the bad ones, except for Wormtail cutting me here," he said, pointing to his other forearm. Then he tapped his forehead, adding, "and of course, The Scar, which seems to fade more and more each day. Other than that, no big story behind most of them."

A distant door slam lightly rattled the room, followed by a muffled yell that made both nurse and patient tense up. Neither moved until, two frantic calls later, Harry heard his name. "In here!"

He sat up just in time to see the door burst open to reveal a rather disheveled and wild-eyed version of the normally impeccable Ginny Weasley. Her dress was just as covered in soot as he...wait...wasn't that in his dream? She ran to the bedside, ignoring Madam Pomfrey on the opposite bedside and gripping his left shoulder and arm. "Harry, thank Merlin! Please tell me you know me. Please tell me you know who I am!"

"Ginny, calm down, calm down," he said, moving his right hand over hers. "What's wrong?"

In reply she threw her arms around him, forcing him back to the bed, then buried her face in his shoulder and shook him with great wracking sobs. Harry shot a confused look at Madam Pomfrey, but the poor woman looked even more confused than he was.

"Talk to me, Ginny, what's happened?"

She lifted her head just above his shoulder and sniffed heavily, proof of her serious desperation. "Oh, Harry, it's just awful...I'm having a nightmare and I can't wake up! Why can't I wake up?"

"Slow down, Ginny, it's okay, it's okay." he said, rubbing circles on her back as their embrace continued. He felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand up...something was not right.

"It's not okay! It's not!" She said before he could think over it longer. She stood suddenly and gripped his arm. "Nobody knows me, Harry! The Burrow's gone, Voldemort is still here, everything is wrong, Harry! Everything is wrong, and nobody will help me because nobody knows me!"

"Wait, what do you mean—?"

Ginny cut him off by turning to the nurse still frozen on the other side of the bed. "Madam Pomfrey, what's my full name?"

She took a step back, shooting a worried look at Harry and then at the wall behind her that concerned and confused him far more greatly.

"Madam Pomfrey?"

After a moment of indecision, she drew herself up and tilted her head up in a defensive posture. "I apologize for my deception, but the young lady speaks the truth. I am at a loss to explain why the two of you are so familiar with me, because I am quite certain I have never met either of you."

Harry stared, confusion deepening. "But...you..." he began, but as he replayed their conversation in his head, the signs were there. He just chose to ignore them for a more reasonable explanation than Madam Pomfrey suddenly forgetting who he was. But...how did this relate to his dream? Was it all real? Was she an impostor now, too? Suddenly his anger spiked. "You...who are you?"

"Stop it, Harry," Ginny said, swatting him in the shoulder. "It's the same thing everywhere we'll go. Whatever you did with that fire phoenix thing, you bollixed everything up. You put me to sleep, and I'm having a nightmare where everything is wrong, and I can't wake up!"

The memory of his impromptu experimentation with the Fire-Making Charm replayed in his mind, settling him down but only bringing back the confusion. "How could it be a nightmare if I'm sharing it, too? What if everyone we know has been Memory Charmed?"

Ginny shook her head sadly. "It's not that, Harry. It couldn't be that. Not with the Burrow gone, and Voldemort—"

"He can't be back again, Ginny," Harry said angrily. "Not after all we went through! It has to be a Memory Charm, there's no other explanation!"

"I'm afraid it can't be a Memory Charm," a new, disembodied voice said.

Instinctively, Harry rolled off the bed to a slightly crouched position in front of Ginny, cursing himself for not noticing the presence of others and not asking for his wand. Dizziness rolled over him from the sudden exertion after lying prone for so long, and he used his right hand to steady him and his left to ensure Ginny stayed behind him. "_Who's there_?"

A Disillusioned figure shimmered into view as the charm was canceled, and Harry's brain stopped functioning. There, standing next to the door, was a slightly taller and bulkier version of himself wearing much finer Muggle clothing than he'd ever owned.

"Wh—who are you?" Harry barely heard Ginny ask.

"It can't be a Memory Charm," the figure said with a sympathetic half smile, "because I'm Harry Potter, son of James and Lily Potter, born July 31, 1980, but the only remotely interesting scar I have is from a broom accident."

* * *

**A/N:**

Stunted growth from malnourishment can be corrected (there is such a thing a catch-up growth), but I'm going on the assumption that it leaves some signs. I have no idea if that is true or how severe the signs would be, I just wanted an obvious medical difference between the two Harrys. I originally had a larger difference, but my early readers felt (and I agreed) that this point was overused, unsupported by canon, and probably medically incorrect as well. Hopefully these more precise differences are more interesting and more believable.

Thanks for reading!


	5. Chapter Five: Warbles

**One Universe to the Left**

**Chapter Five**

**Warbles**

* * *

Silence reigned in the seldom-used guest bedroom at Twelve Grimmauld Place, where two nearly identical Harry Potters stared at one another. One, unmarked by dark curses and the most dangerous magical creatures in existence, leaned non-threateningly against the door frame with an unhostile expression. The other crouched aside the four poster bed, a suspicious, searching gaze on his counterpart, muscles coiled and ready to spring in any direction.

Madam Pomfrey cleared her throat, causing the crouching Harry and his ward—an odd but beautiful redhead she only knew as 'Ginny'—to jerk their heads in her direction. "This is indeed the Harry Potter I know, though I daresay I am not as intimately familiar with his history of injuries as you believe I am with yours."

"I don't understand," the one near the bed said finally. "This can't be."

"Would you be willing to take Veritaserum?" Harry offered.

"Yes," his look-alike answered immediately, then he furrowed his brows in confusion. "Shouldn't I be the one to suggest it? Would you take it?"

"Of course," Harry said. "Of course, though you realize that we can only say what we _believe_ to be true."

"So, as long as you believe you're me, that's what you'll say?"

"I would ask you the exact same thing."

The one near the bed studied Harry intently, as if trying to catch him in some lie. He met the stranger's gaze evenly.

"Harry," the redhead began.

"What?" Two voices answered in unison.

"Okay, that's going to get confusing," she muttered. "I meant the real Harry." At the impending protest, she amended, "or _my_ Harry, I guess. Look, Harry, his face looks like yours, but there's no scar. It can't be Polyjuice. The burrow is gone, Voldemort is still alive, nobody knows me, there are two of you..."

"What are you trying to say?" Madam Pomfrey noticed the boy's eyes never left Harry.

"I don't know! Everything is wrong, Harry, that's what I've been trying to tell you all along!"

"What else is different from what you know?" Harry asked, curiosity plain in his voice and posture. Madam Pomfrey raised an eyebrow at his phrasing...not 'what you thought you knew' or any hint of condescending or patronizing tone. Her estimation of the Potter scion went up considerably. She figured a privately-tutored Potter would be just as insufferable as the Malfoy that just graduated.

The stranger relaxed a bit, but his face froze in thought. "Sirius Black, Alastor Moody, and Albus Dumbledore are all alive, aren't they?"

Harry nodded. "They are, and Uncle Remus as well."

An unreadable expression crossed the look-alike's face. "Uncle?"

Harry nodded again. "You mentioned him earlier. Tonks is well, too."

"And the Weasleys? Where are they?"

"Ginevra Weasley," Madam Pomfrey blurted out, causing the others to swivel their heads toward her. She surprised herself, remembering that name when she had not heard it in so long. The Weasleys were quite an oddity with so many children, however, so most people had heard of them even they hadn't known them at Hogwarts. "But...that's not possible."

"Neither is having two Harry Potters, but that's apparently what we're dealing with," the girl shot back. "Now where is my family?"

Madam Pomfrey shook her head to rid herself of the strange association of the girl's response to Molly Weasley's temper. "Sadly, the Weasleys were killed a long time ago. Bill is the only one left, because he was at Hogwarts at the time of the attack."

"That...that can't be..." the girl said, sinking to the bed. "Mum killed mad Bellatrix herself, there's no way..."

Molly Weasley kill Bellatrix Lestrange? Poppy barely stopped herself from gaping at the thought. She would have considered it too far-fetched to be believable, but so many things she'd seen so far already saturated that category.

"Voldemort himself attacked," Harry said for her. "That's what I'm told, I mean. I was too young to know. Fabian and Gideon Prewett were...a thorn in his side. Voldemort couldn't catch them, so he attacked their sister and her family to force them out of hiding. It—" Harry stopped and grimaced when the redhead broke down in tears. "Oh, Merlin, I'm sorry, I didn't think..."

The boy placed a hand on the girl's shoulder but still did not let down his guard. "She...we could use some time to think."

Poppy shared a look with Harry, then her eyes flicked to where Albus would be standing. No answers came from him...if he was even still standing there. How had he not interrupted by now?

"What?"

Harry cleared his throat. "Ah, you appear to know some rather sensitive information..."

The boy's face darkened. "Are we to be prisoners, then?"

"Well, you have to admit this is all a little odd—"

"—and you have to be cautious, I get it," the other said, then mumbled, "it's just weird being on this end of it."

"Oh, trust me, it's weird from this end, too."

Understatement of the century, Poppy thought. It was well beyond bizarre seeing them interact, and so calmly at that.

The look-alike gave a small smile. "Fine, we don't seem to have anywhere else to go, anyway. This...back when things made sense, this was my home after all. Can I at least have my wand back?"

Poppy fidgeted uncomfortably at that, and Harry looked nervous a moment before an epiphany apparently struck. "Out of curiosity," he said, pulling out his own wand.

The stranger immediately crouched to spring in any direction.

"Hey," Harry said, holding his hands up in surrender. "Relax. Here." He tossed it next to the redhead, who still sat on the bed looking even more haunted than she had when she came in.

The other boy snatched it up quickly, not taking his eyes off Harry for several moments. The level of caution on display bordered on paranoia. Alastor might have liked to see this. Finally he glanced down turning the wand this way and that. "This isn't mine."

"Ah," Harry said, sounding...disappointed? "No, I suppose it wouldn't be."

After a moment of hesitation, the wand sailed back to Harry who snatched it out of the air. At the same time, Madam Pomfrey felt a wand pressed into her hand. Her heart jumped into her throat, but she coughed to hide her reaction. "Very well, here is your wand," she said.

He cocked his head back in surprise. "Just like that?"

"Of course. You are not a prisoner, after all," she replied, then, to hide her nervousness, she busied herself cleaning up her supply cart. She really wanted to talk to Albus and find out just why they'd given this boy his wand back. It seemed a rather rash decision, even if he had returned Harry's so easily. Or perhaps that was the reason, though as the nearest visible target, that did not bring her much comfort.

"Thank you, I'd like to rest and talk this over with Ginny now, if that's okay with you." It might have sounded like a dismissal, but the man did not take his eyes off her. Poppy forced herself to slowly push her cart toward the door while Harry held it open, likely to allow everyone else time to leave. She hoped their Silence charms didn't fade. As it was they were lucky the man wasn't quite as paranoid as Alastor; the old Auror would have cast a revealing charm the moment he received his wand.

"One last thing you should know," Harry said before Poppy could escape, "in case you haven't realized it yet. Our parents are alive."

The other boy blanched, various emotions crossing his face until landing on confusion. "Wait, _our_ parents?"

Harry gave a small smile. "Sorry, I'm used to including my brother and sister in that, William and Rose. Would you like for me to send M-, er, Remus and Sirius up in an hour or so?" Poppy was confused at that for a moment, but she realized that the man would probably be more comfortable in their presence instead of meeting parents he lost when he was too young to remember. Harry really was a sharp young man.

Several long moments passed while the young man sank on the bed with a faraway look in his face. "Okay," he eventually answered in a small voice.

* * *

James Potter led his wife out of the spare bedroom almost in a daze, barely even noticing that he'd bumped into the invisible hand of one of his companions on the way out. No thoughts passed through his mind, only a replay of the past hour: the wariness upon waking him, the anger that he still clung to his story, and finally the utter confusion when the redheaded girl somehow made it into Grimmauld Place and claimed to know the stranger...and know him as Harry Potter. Subconsciously he led his wife to a chair in the kitchen and sat down heavily right next to her. A light tingle snapped him out of it, and he looked around to notice that the others were finally lifting their Disillusionment Charms.

Minerva looked just as shocked as Lily, Remus looked pensive, Sirius wore an uncharacteristic frown, and Albus, as usual, smiled faintly at some joke only he could hear, though James could almost see the thoughts churning behind his eyes. Poppy joined them a minute later, followed by Harry, who seemed to share Remus' calculating, far-away gaze.

Whatever they saw, James didn't. After it became clear that no one else would start, he took the initiative. "Okay, can someone please explain to me what in the bloody _hell_ is happening around here?"

He question echoed in the silence. Most people had looked up, but they were looking toward Albus for answers. He, however, only looked at Harry with the same patient smile on his face.

Harry noticed. "He thinks he is Harry Potter, that much is proven beyond a shadow of a doubt."

"And that is impossible, that much is also proven beyond a shadow of a doubt," James countered.

"I'm not so sure," Harry said softly.

"What? How could that be?"

"I can't say, really...just the feeling I got from talking to him," his son explained. "I will say I would've agreed with you all the way up until the girl showed up."

"I must agree with young Harry here," Albus finally chimed in, looking inordinately pleased with the teen's insight. "His willingness to take Veritaserum could have been a bluff, but I think not. He does indeed believe he is Harry Potter."

"Let's assume he is telling the truth," Remus said.

"Moony?" James asked incredulously.

"No, no, hear me out," the werewolf said, making a placating gesture. "Try to look at it from his perspective. Pretend for a moment you're in his situation, waking up in a strange world where everything you know is different. How would you act? Wouldn't you do exactly as he did?"

"If I woke up to Charlus Potter standing above me, I'd probably scream like a little girl," Sirius said. "No offense, James."

"My dad wasn't your godfather," James said.

"Well, if Cadmus Rosier had been standing over me I probably wouldn't wake up at all." Sirius grinned, then. "Also, I should probably mention...uh, well I may have slipped the kid an Inhibition-Lowering Potion."

"You did what?!" Lily's outburst startled James, who thought she'd be out of it for a little while longer.

"Hey, you didn't seem to mind the thought of roughing him up a bit," Sirius said defensively.

"Well, that doesn't mean you drug him! We are not the Inquisitors!"

James privately agreed with Sirius, and wished he'd thought of it himself. His wife was always very much against any type of magic that messes with a person's mind, even one as mild as that potion.

"You said, 'waking up in a strange world,' Remus," Minerva said, bringing the conversation back on track despite Lily's fuming. "You mean like having your memories erased?"

"Not erased, replaced," the werewolf said. "All of those memories, all of those scars...there was no hesitation in his story. Either he is a phenomenally good liar or he truly believes it all happened.

"But to replace an entire lifetime of memories..." Minerva shivered at the thought. "That can't be possible, even for you, Albus."

"I agree," Albus said, "though I must admit I would suspect Voldemort, had it not been for our supposed young Miss Weasley."

"She does take after them...I didn't want to admit it, but she does, and it's not just the red hair," Minerva said distantly, but then she looked up sharply. "So what are you saying Albus?"

"That the person in that bedroom is telling the truth, just like Remus said," Lily answered, then shot another glare at Sirius, "predatory drug notwithstanding."

James gaped at his wife, who merely gave their son an odd apologetic look, as if Sirius had drugged _him_. Said son nodded and gave her a wry smile, which was equally puzzling to James. "He _is_ Harry Potter," Harry said, "he's just in the wrong universe."

Shocked silence descended on the room. Blood pounded in James ears, signaling the onset of a vicious headache. Impossible. The word repeated itself in his mind, which continued to flail in search of a more realistic possibility. Shared delusions or an elaborate ruse remained his best attempts at an alternative, but neither one explained the other coincidences. Nothing explained all of the odd happenings or the impostor's knowledge. Nothing except the impossible. And it was impossible, but the smartest people he knew were apparently entertaining the possibility.

"But how would he have—" James began, but at the exact same time, everybody else started talking as well.

"It's the only thing that makes sense—"

"Are you really telling me—"

"How did he—"

A thunderclap from the end of Dumbledore's wand brought an end to the increasingly louder speculation. "Please," he said into the sudden silence, "I know this seems rather unlikely. In fact, yesterday I would have agreed it was impossible. However, I believe the young lady mentioned something about phoenix fire."

That got James attention. "You think they might have used a phoenix?"

"They could no more _use_ a phoenix than I could, but I digress. Everything I know about phoenixes is due to my companion Fawkes." Said bird flamed into existence at his shoulder. "Ah, Fawkes, my old friend, thank you for coming. I was just telling everyone that even I do not understand the full extent of your powers. What do you say, might a phoenix have brought visitors here from another universe entirely?"

The phoenix warbled softly, immediately lifting James' spirits. He saw everyone else in the room sit a little straighter.

"For those of you not familiar with the musical trills and warbles of a phoenix," Dumbledore said, "rest assured that I have positively no inkling as to what that meant, either." He chuckled and pulled something out of his pocket to feed the bird. "But thank you for the gift, my friend."

Fawkes let out a slightly different trill without the pick-me-up, then flashed away. James knew how intelligent phoenixes were, so he had to wonder if Dumbledore and Fawkes were teasing them somehow. At least with the visit he wasn't feeling so frustrated about the whole situation.

Lily squeezed his hand, and he looked over to see her in much better spirits as well. "So what do we do, Albus?"

"Well, if those two are from...another universe," he said slowly, as if trying to the make the words sound reasonable. He paused for several moments before shaking his head. "Perhaps another explanation will present itself, but in the meantime, we'll need to keep him under wraps for the moment. I will need to think on these latest developments..." He trailed off, already deep in thought.

James wasn't much of a thinker, and he would be the first to admit it. He left that to Remus in the old days and his wife now, as they were far more adept at it than he was. Still, he understood why Albus trailed off like that. If—and he was still unsure how they all could be thinking this—the two were from a different universe, that opened up a staggering number of possibilities. What else might come here after them? What if Voldemort figured out how to control such a power? _That_ was a terrifying thought, though perhaps he would simply disappear from this universe, leaving them all in peace. He felt bad for wherever he ended up, though.

Just then his blood ran cold. If that was his son from another universe in there, what did this mean for the prophecy?

A sudden slam against the table made everyone jump, including James. "Well, I didn't think I'd get another chance at this, but if that's another Harry," Sirius said, standing up and grabbing a bottle of firewhiskey out of the cabinet above the fridge, "I figure I better corrupt him properly."

* * *

A/N:

Some of my early readers expressed some doubt that the characters could find cross-dimensional travel so unbelievable in a world where magic frequently enables the impossible, including time travel which also allows a person to be in two places at once. My argument there is that, while those are both very true, the difference is that none of these characters have ever seen or heard about dimensional travel. At least not in my story they haven't. To me, that would strongly push them toward explanations that make sense based on what they know to be true (hence the initial focus on Polyjuice).

Also, several readers last chapter found it unlikely that Harry would be so talkative to Pomfrey when he just woke up. I forgot to note this in the last chapter, but I agreed all the way back when I first wrote it (I even pre-warned my early readers about it), but this section was dragging on long enough, and I didn't know how to fix it without putting off all this other fun stuff. Now, though, we're nearing the end of what I have written, and I can't promise that I'll finish this story. Thus the gods of retroactive continuity avail you with Inhibition Lowering Potion.

Stick that in your butterbeer and drink it.

Alternatively, feel free to write your own slow-moving epic dimension-traveling story, and I shall read it.

Thanks for reading!


	6. Chapter Six: Business and Pleasure

**One Universe to the Left**

**Chapter Six**

**Business and Pleasure**

* * *

Minerva McGonagall absently smoothed her simple but elegant burgundy robes as she worked up the courage to enter the Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. As the youngest headmistress in over a century, she had plenty reason to try and project the same buttoned-up, no-nonsense, professional air that had earned her the spot in the first place. However, the action mainly served to hide her nerves from any unseen watchers at the prospect of once again entering the tragically and thoroughly corrupted school.

The thick, magically-reinforced stone walls dampened sound as well as any material, and none of the students filled the halls during the summer, but Minerva still mentally attributed the utter silence to a far more ominous but likely imaginary presence. It should have been a relief that the students were now free of the sometimes brutal and always harmful indoctrination of pureblood ideals here at school, but while they were away, she was so _helpless_. At least at school she could provide some measure of protection to the more vulnerable students-half-bloods now, since Muggleborns had not been permitted to attend for several years. She did all she could to undermine their mandatory lesson plans and foster compassion and other positive character traits wherever they appeared, but as the only one left from the old guard, she felt she failed them more often than not.

It was terribly difficult work since children were so impressionable. Having most authority figures constantly preaching their superiority over Muggles made her egalitarian views seem like a demotion in their eyes.

It had not been a sudden thing; indeed, Albus maintained his assurance that everything would work out right up until Voldemort himself strolled into the Great Hall, and each of the other professors bowed to him. No, the governors removed Dumbledore after one too many incidents with Hagrid, their former half-giant groundskeeper. As a half-goblin and a squib, respectively, Filius and Argus went early as well. One-by-one the pureblood supremacist faction forced out good teachers with dubious claims of poor performance and installed their own, though it had not been too obvious at the time. Minerva had even gotten along with some of them, she had thought, since they were almost all quiet, business-like professors that expected excellence from their students. She had even sat in on Professor Von Steuben's Defense Against the Dark Arts class early on, and found him gruff-certainly in part due his German accent-but fair, even to Muggleborns.

She should have known something was amiss when Von Steuben seemed to have broken the curse on the Defense position. Scattered reports of mistreatment grew more and more frequent, and each time Minerva met with the staff to discuss it, they went away for a short time. All that time they were testing her limits, seeing how much they could get away with, seeing if they could wear her down...and all that time, she had not imagined that they were working for Voldemort.

The gargoyle guarding the Headmistress office, not needing a password in the summer, sprang to life at her approach. The grinding sound startled her; she had not realized she had made it all the way through the castle. She hurried up the stairs to the relative safety of her quarters.

"Hello, Minerva," a silky smooth voice said from behind her desk.

Her heart dropped into her stomach. Above the armrest of her high-back, brown leather office chair facing away from her, a thin, well-manicured hand twirled a dark wand lazily. Instantly she cleared her mind. She could not match her predecessor in terms of Occlumency; Dumbledore had always worn his dotty, forgetful persona with imaginary memories more often then not. Minerva, on the other hand, could not disguise her ability, especially since she was known for her...passion. That sounded better than temper. "Tom," she said in a perfectly neutral voice.

He stood then, his combed black hair perfectly in place as he turned and gave her his devilishly handsome smile. Despite being nine years her senior, he had aged far more gracefully than she had. "I was just discussing the modifications we've made to the Hogwarts rules and regulations with Former Headmaster Black." He turned back to the man in question. "Always a pleasure, Phineas, but if you will excuse me, I have some pressing matters to discuss with our...headmistress."

The former headmaster gave Tom a sympathetic nod. "Of course, my friend. Do feel free to call upon me if you have need, and give my great-great-granddaughter my best."

"Of course," Tom said, then waved his wand and froze the portrait, just as the others were. "Now, where were we, my dear?"

"To what do I owe the...pleasure of your company?" Her voice retained the bland quality, but she knew he expected and even enjoyed subtle insults like that.

Tom smiled again, and he approached her. "Come now, Minerva, I do so enjoy our visits. Must we always antagonize one another?"

"Of course not."

He laughed. "Ever the charmer. Very well, if we must discuss business before pleasure...a group of Inquisitors encountered a young man today during a routine safety patrol in Hogsmeade. I don't suppose you and your...companions...would know anything about that, would you?"

"A little," Minerva said calmly, though a spike of anger nearly slipped through when he claimed his thugs were patrolling the town to ensure the safety of those within, as if they had done anything of the sort in the past several years. "The young man fled the scene shortly after my acquaintances arrived to investigate."

"I see." Tom walked slowly around her, and she suddenly jumped when she felt his hot breath against the back of her neck. His proximity made her skin want to crawl; it was all she could do not to try to pull her wand and attack. "And what did this young man look like?"

"Thin, dark hair, thick glasses. He was a mess, supposedly, but given the state of Hogsmeade it shouldn't have been a surprise. They only saw him briefly, though, so they couldn't be more exact."

"And what was your conclusion?"

"...pardon?"

She only barely avoided exhaling in relief when Tom did his slow walk back around to her front. "You were there to identify the perpetrator, yes? So what was your conclusion?"

After a moment of hesitation, Minerva accepted the purpose he gave her in being there. "I did not reach one."

Tom smiled again. "I see. Well, it appears my business here is complete. Shall we move on to pleasure?"

She only had a split second to freeze in alarm.

"_Crucio_."

* * *

A/N:

And that's the extent of what I have written, which I never even showed my early readers. This scene was half-finished for over a year, and I finished it just for you guys. Don't you feel special?

I have a whole slew of notes and mini-scenes for this story, including a pretty solid idea of where the other half of this chapter was going to go (even _I_ can't wait for some Harry vs Harry sparring, and I'm the one that's supposed to write it), but alas, I am kinda focusing on original fiction at the moment. There are a couple short story opportunities and NaNoWriMo coming up. Should I return to this? I would like to, but I won't promise anything. I was somewhat surprised at the reaction; I don't know if it's the FFnet readership that's changing, the quality of my stories, or what, but this story has received more negative reviews than my other ones. Not that that means much when several of them are angry that my Harry is not more powerful, when in fact I probably boosted his abilities too much as it is.

Anyway, thanks for reading! And be sure to encourage me to continue and/or express your hatred for leaving you with such a cliffhanger, if you like. Or thank me for failing to inflict more of this story upon the masses (yet), whichever you prefer.


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